While Ex-Gawker star, and recent New York Times cover girl, Emily Gould is off selling her essay collection, titled And the Heart Says...Whatever, for a rumored $350,000.00, the rest of us can't get arrested. And I've been all happy and proud of myself this week because three very small, very non-paying literary publishing houses have agreed to read my essay collection, rather than acting as if I'm trying to send them a dead, frozen cat in a priority mail envelope.
Oh well. I guess I'm not tattoed or fabulous or trendy. And I guess there's a price to pay for stepping out alone. (Yes, folks, I am my own agent. Who needs them, anyway?)
Here's a sample of Gould's writing. You be the judge. Good? How about $350,000 good?
12 comments:
I could see right off the bat that Gould's work has its market. But since that market doesn't include me, I didn't read much.
Now you, W?R. I asked you this once before, and didn't get an answer. You had referred to literary essays you had written. I'm still curious: what authors, books are the subjects of your essays? And are you positive or negative about them? Three measly examples would do, and it wouldn't blow your cover.
(At least I'm interested in where your interests lie.)
My essays are not literary criticism, though there is some commentary on other texts.
Mine are more memoirish and topical about my *amazingly fascinating* life: creative nonfiction on a particular topic or three.
Be patient, son. All will be revealed in good time.
I'm with anon up there. Her writing's fine -- but I don't want to hear about her yoga experience. Remember when people thought it was outrageous that Kenneth Branagh would write an autobiography at the tender age of twenty something? No longer, apparently.
She needs to age a little -- and while she's at it she should be reading good writing and thinking about something other than herself.
Good luck with your essays -- I'm going to guess that pretty soon here (or at least in good time) we'll be reading them.
Seems like Gould has a girl crush on Deborah the Yoga Instructor but isn't interesting enough to figure out that's what's interesting about the story....Ah, youth...they're not where it's at. Which is to say this was a bit of a snooze. A very expensive snooze. Good for her. Why shouldn't someone cash in on the stupidity of well-intentioned editors?
Quote: "...Be patient, son..."
There's the clue right there ! Writer Rejected is either your mother or your father ! Holy cow!
: )
Her writing is something I would have liked when I was twenty and reading Mademoiselle or Glamour. There is an enormous market for confessional, mundane fluff, though that market is dwindling as the birth rate is going down and seniors will soon outnumber juniors and they'll have to pander to oldsters for a change.
Oh, and I posted a blog rejection letter I got from Google today. Does that count?
Astonishingly boring, I was waiting to be surprised if not enlightened and, most of all, for the humour. It never came! It's extraordinary to me that this kind of sub-mainstream-women's-magazine writing is garnering such acclaim and big bucks. Depressed? She has no idea.
Has the appeal of a rice cake dipped in water.
In a word: bland.
A regular Montaigne.
(not!)
Clunky and riddled with cliches. But it's about yoga, so it must be "deep." :p
She's a famous New York media personality. $350K is pretty standard, she's on the cover of the NY Times Magazine - it's a lot different than selling some unknown author.
Attractive. Posing on a bed. Tattoos. Romantically involved with author/editor of n+1. Brooklyn. Parties.
Notice that her MacBook is smoking a Gauloise sans filtre... Cool cool hotness.
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